


Real men cuddle

by obscureshipyard



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, HYDRA Husbands, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, fragile masculinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29819382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscureshipyard/pseuds/obscureshipyard
Summary: Just a fun little play on fragile masculinity. Cuddling with your lover even when you won’t admit that you're lovers... or that you enjoy cuddling. Looking at you Brock Rumlow
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Real men cuddle

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks TemptedForTea for the beta read!

Brock teetered on the cusp of falling asleep. His sore muscles finally began to relax. His breathing just settled down. His eyelids grew heavy, and then he felt it. An arm reached out around his chest and pulled.

Jack had quite the wingspan and was just as strong as he looked. He pulled Brock in close, settling with his chin on Brock’s shoulder and his body pressed in tight to Brock's side. His humid breath combined with Brock’s cooling sweat, irritating the already irritated man.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Brock was fully awake now, all pretense of drowsiness gone.

"Trying to sleep." Jack’s voice was slow. He didn’t even open his eyes to see Brock glaring at him.

"Not that, your arm." Brock poked at the heavy appendage still draped over his chest.

"Holding you. Please stop talking." Jack’s other arm snaked its way under the pillow on which Brock’s head lay.

" _Seriously,_ Rollins, cuddling? It's kinda--"

"Brock, your dick was literally up my ass like ten minutes ago. Do not try and say cuddling is too gay for you." Jack’s indignation was clear in his tone, but he didn’t move an inch.

Brock opened his mouth, then closed it. It was true. They had just settled down for the night after a particularly acrobatic session. They had been hooking up more and more frequently for the last few weeks. "But...that's fucking, fucking's different."

"Fine. Fucking's different. Now, stop squirming and go to sleep. You're a massive bitch if you don't sleep at least six hours."

The indignant squawk that escaped Brock’s throat was the only response he could muster. Jack was already asleep. There was no way Brock was scooting away now and spending the night sleeping in the wet spot. He grumbled but stayed put in Jack’s arms.

Brock hated being too hot when he was trying to sleep. And this whole cuddling in bed was…new--weird--gay as shit. They’d talk about it tomorrow, Brock decided. This couldn’t be allowed to just ‘happen’ without them both being on board with it. Eventually he sank into unconsciousness.

The next morning Jack was already awake and in the shower by the time Brock woke up. He was going to bring it up before they left, but he got out of the shower late. He was going to bring it up on the drive to work, but traffic was terrible and took all of his attention. No way in hell was he going to bring it up in the office. And after work... they ended up fucking as soon as they got home, and Brock passed out before he could bring it up.

He started to notice more and more how physically affectionate Jack was towards him. He was a constant professional at work, personal space and all that in the presence of others, especially subordinates. But when they were alone, or away from prying eyes and ears, he was a human octopus. There wasn't an inch of Brock's space he didn't occupy.

Little brushes of a hand suddenly became suspect. Sitting so near each other in briefings or in transit had Brock constantly readjusting himself for just an inch or so of space. Jack had always been Brock’s shadow, the way any good SIC would be… but, Brock could tell when it was Jack standing close to him by the warmth at his back. He knew his scent. It was distracting as hell.

In their private lives he noticed it too. Little things like make out sessions on Brock’s couch that he meant to keep hot and heavy turning into slow and drowsy. He was tired after a long day, ok? He hadn’t planned it. They both just kind of end up wrapped in each other’s arms and passed out asleep sometimes.

Brock would never admit it to anyone, but it was always the best sleep he got all week. Things were just… comfortable. They never talked about it, but in Brock’s experience talking never helped.

If they sat down and named it, nothing would change anyway. It’s not like they could run off together and retire. Hydra was for life. The only way out was a bodybag. Sure, Brock knew they were exclusive, and Jack spent nearly all of his free time at Brock’s place, and they were the closest team leaders of the entire Strike division… but putting a name to it wasn’t going to help.

Something was wrong with Brock’s pillows. Or his bed. Maybe the sheets. It had been more than a week since he’d gotten a good night’s rest.

Jack came back from his assignment to a grouchy and exhausted Commander. He had the common sense not to say anything about it. Jack filed his mission reports and dropped into Brock’s office to debrief him.

After going over the bare minimal details while Brock tapped his fingers against his desk in an erratic beat, they left. The perks of being in charge, Brock could cut out early when he needed. And he needed.

As soon as they stepped into Brock’s apartment, clothes came off. Neither said a word, both of a single mind. Brock eagerly pulled Jack on top, wrapping him up in arms and legs. Brock didn’t even try to hold back the moans. Fuck, he missed this.

Neediness made quick work of them both. Less than a half hour later they stretched out on the bed covered in sweat and seed. Brock meant to bitch about needing to go mattress shopping, but his eyelids were heavy. Jack pulled him into his arms, and they fell promptly to sleep.

The next morning Brock woke up sticky, and refreshed, and furious.

“Fucking hell.” He groaned into his hands, rubbing them over his face.

Jack stirred next to him but didn’t open his eyes. “What’s wrong?” He yawned.

“It was you.”

“What was me?” He snuffled into Brock’s neck.

“I couldn’t sleep for the last week. I thought it was the mattress or the pillows or some shit. But it was you.” Brock let the words hang between them, not that Jack seemed to mind. The man just lay over top like a human blanket.

“I had trouble sleeping without you, too.”

Brock wanted to scoff. He wanted to complain and nitpick his point. He could sleep without Jack. He didn’t need the other man there. This was just… more comfortable.

Brock didn’t say anything. He was tired, ok? Instead, he wrapped an arm around Jack’s waist and put a leg between warm thighs. He had sleep to catch up on.


End file.
